they are tellin’ you is true. Butrum come chargin’ in here with his gun in his hand. This fella was standin’ at the bar drinkin’ a beer, but he dropped his beer, drew his gun, and killed Butrum.”
“What did you shoot him for?” Logan asked.
“He was pointing a gun at me,” Matt said. “I don’t like it when people point their gun at me. I don’t even like it when someone is holding a gun in front of me, whether they are pointing it at me or not.”
Logan looked down at the gun he was holding.
“Like you,” Matt continued. “I would feel much better if you would put that gun away.”
“Ha! Would you now?” Logan replied.
“Yes, I would.”
“What if I decide I don’t want to put it away?”
“Then I will kill you,” Matt answered easily.
“Are you daft, mister? I’m holding a gun in my hand.”
“So was Butrum,” Matt answered easily.
“Logan, put the gun away,” one of the other two said.
“I ain’t puttin’ my gun away.”
“What if he starts shootin’, and winds up shootin’ all of us?”
“That’s it! Caleb, you and Ben pull your guns too. I don’t care how fast he is, he can’t kill all three of us.”
“What if he kills just one of us?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. He probably can’t get more’n one of us before we get him.”
“Which one?” Ben asked. “Which one of us is willin’ to be the one that gets hisself kilt for the other two?”
“Put your gun away now,” Matt said. Although he was standing, facing Logan, he had not drawn his gun, nor had he made any move toward it.
Logan hesitated for another moment, then slipped his gun back into its holster.
“Yeah, well, all right, I can’t see gettin’ into a fight over Butrum,” Logan said. “There didn’t none of us like that little son of a bitch away. Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s go over to the Mex place. Hell, I like tequila better anyway.”
“We just got here,” Ben said.
“I’m goin’ with Logan,” Caleb said. “If you want to stay in here all by yourself, you go ahead.”
“No,” Ben said. “I’m comin’ too.”
Without another word, the three men turned and left the saloon. There had been a collective holding of breath by everyone in the saloon, and now, as one, they let it out, followed by several loud exclamations.
“Damn! If that don’t beat all I ever seen! He was standin’ there without a gun in his hand, and bluffed down three armed men.”
“I don’t think it was a bluff,” Stan said. “I think he would have killed them if they had tried anything.”
“What are you talking about? Logan already had his gun in hand. And maybe Logan ain’t as fast as Butrum was, but he is pretty damn fast. I’ve seen him shoot.”
“He wasn’t bluffing,” Stan said again resolutely.
All the other patrons turned to look at Matt, but he had already retaken his seat at the table, and he was just sitting there, staring into his beer.
“Damn. He wasn’t bluffing, was he?” someone said.
Chapter Twenty-two
Matt met the other residents of Ma Perkins’ Boarding House at breakfast the next morning. Mr. Proffer was the only other male resident. Miss Grimes was a schoolteacher, Mrs. Mouser and Mrs. Gibson were, like Lucy Perkins, widows, though they were much older.
Kenny had already heard the news of Matt shooting Butrum, and he kept looking at Matt across the breakfast table.
“Is it true?” Kenny asked. “Did you really do it?”
“Is what true?” Lucy asked. “Kenny, don’t be rude to our guests.”
“I’m not bein’ rude, Ma,” Kenny said. “I think it’s great, if it’s true.”
“If what is true?”
“When I went down to help Jimmy put out the feed in the livery stable this morning, he said that Mr. Jensen shot Butrum last night.”
“Kenny, what a thing to say!” Lucy said.
“It’s true, Ma. Jimmy seen it.”
“Jimmy saw it,” Miss Grimes corrected.
